


I Knew You Were Trouble (When You Walked In)

by ryukoishida



Series: Winterreise [7]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-09-18 03:12:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9365243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryukoishida/pseuds/ryukoishida
Summary: Just another normal morning in the Nikiforov household.





	

_It should be illegal_ , Yuuri thinks as he rubs the sleep out of his eyes before sliding his glasses back on the bridge of his nose.

 

The clearer image of Viktor Nikiforov, who’s currently facing away from Yuuri with nothing donned except for an apron and a pair of black sweatpants that displays the jut of his hipbone in the most enticing way possible, doesn’t help. His pale skin glows golden-orange as the sunlight filters in through the full-length windows of the dining room, and the shadows on his back shift.

 

Yuuri wants to trace the shapes of those ever-moving shadows with his fingertips, the yearning to feel the dip and rise of Viktor’s back pulling him forward like an enchantment.

 

He shuffles over to where his fiancé is making breakfast at the stove, and Yuuri is thankful that there’s no strange burnt scent that accompanies their morning meal this time around as he wraps his arms loosely around the taller man and lays his cheek against his back.  

 

Viktor relaxes into the warmth of his embrace.

 

“G’morning, звезда моя,” Viktor murmurs, turning to place a small kiss by Yuuri’s temple, the turfs of inky black hair tickling his skin. “Did I wake you up?”

 

“Mmm, no,” he replies, voice muffled when he peppers small kisses along Viktor’s neck, nothing too distracting, or so he thinks – just feather-light touches of his lips barely enough to set a trail of heat and electricity down Viktor’s spine, making him shiver and the want in him unravel.  

 

“Yuuri…” Viktor whines, chuckling breathily as he drops the wooden spoon he’s been using to stir the scrambled eggs on the counter with a clatter before he laces his fingers with Yuuri’s, “What’s gotten into you, hmm?”

 

Instead of giving him a verbal answer, Yuuri only continues to scatter open-mouthed kisses along Viktor’s broad shoulder, occasionally biting him just hard enough to leave a slight imprint of his teeth and draw a shuddering gasp from the silver-haired man. Yuuri trails his hands downward, spreading flames with blunt nails; his fingertips trace the lines of his fiancé’s abdominal muscles and wander to his hips, where his sweatpants are riding dangerously low, the elegant arc of his spine giving way to the swell of his ass just peeking out from the waistband.

 

“Illegal,” Yuuri mutters against the skin of Viktor’s back at the sight, his mind returning to his previous thought, and Viktor isn’t entirely certain what he’s referring to, but from the insistent way Yuuri continues to assault his back with kisses and licks after he’s successfully removed the apron and lets it flutter to the ground, Viktor may have a fairly good idea.

 

His fingers grip tightly on the edge of the countertop, knuckles white and muscles taut.    

 

“I-If you keep doing that, our breakfast is going to burn,” Viktor tells him, trying for a scolding tone but instead ends up stuttering most of the statement when Yuuri unabashedly cups his arousal through the soft cotton of his pants and squeezes, his intention clearer than the crisp, winter sky outside.

 

“Let it,” Yuuri replies in a nonchalant whisper, the heel of his hand continuing its ministration by grinding suggestively against Viktor’s now very obvious, even through a layer of clothing, erection.

 

Viktor isn’t about to let Yuuri have his way without a fight though. He wraps his fingers around Yuuri’s wrists and cleverly maneuvers their positions so that Viktor can finally face him properly. The edge of the counter is digging into Viktor’s back rather uncomfortably, but at least he’s able to see Yuuri’s face – cheeks flushed, hair disheveled from sleep and falling into his eyes, and irises roused into black and maroon. 

 

Viktor cradles both sides of Yuuri’s face, and leans his head forward until their foreheads touch. His breath is tantalizingly hot against Yuuri’s parted lips, and the dark-haired skater wants nothing more than to close the small distance between them. “Since when have you become so irresponsible?”

 

The sea-glass blue of Viktor’s eyes turns darker, an impish smirk gracing his lips as he places a teasing peck on the corner of Yuuri’s mouth, and Yuuri chases after him, wanting more, needing him to kiss his breath away, preferably, but Viktor won’t have it – not yet.

 

Viktor tilts his head back, thin brows raised in expectation, “Yuuri…”

 

Yuuri huffs in mock frustration, one arm bracing himself on his fiancé’s shoulder while the other one reaches over Viktor’s figure to turn off the stove.

 

“Since you’ve started wearing these ridiculously indecent sweatpants,” Yuuri replies when he’s completed his task, and before Viktor even realizes what’s happening, he feels Yuuri’s hands slide down his sides and rest on his hips, his thumbs tracing reverently along the lines of his hipbone and dipping further down beneath the waistband of his trousers.

 

When Yuuri glances back up at Viktor through thick, inky lashes, there’s an unmistakable hint of animalistic streak in the red of his eyes that makes Viktor swallows thickly and his entire frame shiver with unspoken desire.

 

“Now that we’ve ensured our breakfast won’t burn down your apartment…” Yuuri tip-toes and whispers sweetly into Viktor’s ear, the curve of his lips positively devilish when he tugs and loosens the strings to those aforementioned illegal sweatpants with nimble fingers, “Take. It. Off.” 


End file.
